


Even The Lost

by bowties_Scarves_and_Plaid



Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: And saves the day, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Lancelot, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injured Lancelot, Lancelot is secretly charismatic, Lancelot passes out a lot, Post-Season/Series 01, Protective!Percival, looook I know this fic has been done a million times but i couldn't resist, the green knight lives, the whump is just too good and i needed some comfort for lancelot, tw for descriptions of Lancelots injuries and blood, tw for self harm because of Lancelot's history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26488189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowties_Scarves_and_Plaid/pseuds/bowties_Scarves_and_Plaid
Summary: Percival and Lancelot are traveling together to where the Fey are camped out after Lancelot's fight with the Trinity Guard. They hoped to make it all the way to the camp, but Lancelot is more injured than he let on and they are forced to stop. Luckily, rescue comes in the form of the Green Knight. Now they just need to get Lancelot safely to camp and convince the Fey not to kill him on sight.
Relationships: All friendships no ships, Arthur & The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed), Gawain | The Green Knight & The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed), Pym & The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed), Squirrel | Percival & The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed), athough it can be pre Lancelot/Gawain if you squint, but they also just be read as buddies if you'd prefer
Comments: 15
Kudos: 137





	Even The Lost

“Lancelot is a much better name than Percival,” Squirrel grumbled under his breath. Lancelot heard his whisper and chuckled softly. Squirrel couldn’t help but grin in surprise at the sound. “And Lancelot is a better name than the Weeping Monk, too,” Squirrel added before he thought about it. Lancelot tensed behind him and Squirrel immediately regretted mentioning the Weeping Monk’s name.

Squirrel was about to take back his words when Lancelot gave a wry chuckle and relaxed once again.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t give myself that name. But it certainly served its purpose.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Weeping Monk was the weapon of the Red Paladin. Everything about him was designed to strike fear in the hearts of the Fey,” Lancelot said, his voice a low monotone.

Squirrel couldn’t help but shiver at the reminder of who the man sitting behind him really was. Lancelot had sacrificed everything to save Squirrel’s life, but the Weeping Monk had burned and killed his friends and family and kidnapped Squirrel to use him as bait.

“As far as I’m concerned, the Weeping Monk died back at that camp,” Lancelot continued. “I just hope I can find a place in this world as Lancelot.”

“Nimue will accept you, as soon as I tell her how you saved me and that you are one of us,” Squirrel assured him. Lancelot’s arm tightened slightly around Percival’s waist.

“How’d you figure that out?” Lancelot asked, his voice rough.

“I saw your hand turn green when you were fighting the Green Knight. Plus that priest guy was talking about how you can sniff out your own kind,” Squirrel said with a shrug.

“Smart kid,” Lancelot complimented.

Goliath trotted up a small hill and Lancelot shifted and hissed softly in pain. Squirrel wasn’t sure how badly the man was injured, but he could only hope that Lancelot was able to make it to the Fey camp.

“Your kind can’t heal?” Percival asked softly, not sure if he was allowed to ask something like that.

“No,” Lancelot said gruffly. “But I’m okay, it’s not that bad.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Squirrel scoffed. He turned around slightly to catch a glimpse of Lancelot’s pale, bloody face. His gaze moved from the large gash on the side of the man’s face to the weeping marks underneath his eyes. “What are you? I’ve never seen any Fey like you.”

“I’m an Ash Folk, and no one around here has seen any Fey like me. After he’d burned it and killed my family, Father Carden brought me from my home to here.”

“Where’s your home?”

“Far, far, away,” Lancelot said. Squirrel was about to ask another question when Lancelot's grip tightened around him as he gasped in pain again.

“Lancelot?” Squirrel asked in concern, turning around to look at the man. Lancelot’s eyes were squeezed shut and his face was a mask of pain.

“I’m o-” Lancelot cut off abruptly. His grip on Squirrel suddenly went lax and his head dropped heavily against Squirrel’s shoulder. The pressure only lasted for a couple of seconds before Lancelot slipped off of Goliath and landed in a heap on the ground. Percival just managed to keep his hold on the horse’s reins and not fall off alongside the Monk.

“Lancelot!” Squirrel shouted. He pulled on Goliath’s reins and luckily the big black stopped in his tracks. Squirrel quickly scrambled down and over to where Lancelot was lying. He hadn’t moved since he’d fallen from the horse. Squirrel turned him over as gently as possible. “Lancelot?” He practically whispered, patting the cheek of the unresponsive man.

Lancelot’s face was a bloody mess and his skin was clammy. After a few terrifying seconds, Squirrel was able to see that he was at least still breathing. His breaths were weak and shallow, but he was still alive. Lancelot’s eyes remained stubbornly closed even when Percival shook his shoulders and shouted his name. 

“Lancelot, please,” Squirrel practically begged. He was at a loss of what to do. There was no way he was going to be able to get Lancelot back on Goliath, but they couldn’t stay in the middle of the path like they were currently. Squirrel thought about riding ahead to find help for Lancelot, but he really didn’t want to leave his new friend to possibly die alone.

“Okay, okay,” Squirrel said to himself, brushing away the tear that had fallen from his eye. The first thing he had to do was get the Weeping Monk off of the road. If anyone passed by they would definitely recognize him and he was in no state to be able to defend himself against his many enemies.

Percival tried to take Lancelot’s arms and drag him into the woods, but he only got a couple of feet before he collapsed, sweating and out of strength. It had been a rough couple of days for Squirrel with very little sleep, but even fully rested, he wasn’t sure if he would’ve been able to drag the tall man.

“Please don’t kill me for this,” Squirrel muttered as he knelt down next to Lancelot. He took a deep breath and slapped the man hard across the face. Lancelot flinched and groaned, but didn’t open up his eyes. Squirrel pulled back his hand to slap him again, but before he could, long fingers wrapped lightly around his wrist. Squirrel looked first at the bloodstained hand and then at the face of the man it belonged to.

“Why...are you...hitting me?” Lancelot said, his voice so soft Percival could barely hear it.

“You passed out and fell off of Goliath, I need your help to move off of the road,” Squirrel said. He watched as awareness slowly seeped back into Lancelot’s eyes. Lancelot’s hand fell from Percival’s wrist and fell back onto the ground with a thump. He looked around and spotted Goliath a few feet away. 

“Help me back onto my horse,” Lancelot spoke as he tried and failed to struggle into a sitting position.

“No way, we need to treat your injuries first,” Percival protested.

“We don’t have time,” Lancelot ground out.

“You’re just going to pass out again, and then what am I supposed to do? What if you don’t wake up next time?” Squirrel couldn’t stop the slightly desperate tone from seeping into his voice. He hated feeling so weak and powerless.

The monk tilted his head and looked at Squirrel curiously for a few seconds, then he nodded his head. “Okay, help me up then. There’s a stream a short distance that way,” Lancelot said, gesturing to the right.

“Can you smell that too?” Squirrel asked in amazement.

“No, I can hear it,” Lancelot cracked a small smile that looked out of place on his face. "Close your eyes and listen." Squirrel closed his eyes and concentrated, after a few moments he was able to hear the telltale sign of water gurgling over rocks.

“Whoa,” said Squirrel. Lancelot’s smile widened at the boy’s reaction.

“C’mon, help me up,” Lancelot said. Squirrel went over and helped Lancelot the best he could. After a bit of struggle, they finally got Lancelot onto his feet, he leaned painfully against a tree and breathed as if he’d just run for kilometers. Squirrel let him catch his breath for a few moments and then went over and wrapped his arm around Lancelot’s waist. It was only slightly easier than dragging his dead weight had been. The monk leaned heavily against Percival as they slowly made their way to the stream.

They had just barely made it to the water’s edge when Lancelot’s legs gave out and he collapsed, bring Squirrel down with him. Squirrel helped him sit up against a tree and then went back to cover their tracks as Lancelot instructed him. Percival didn't need to worry about Lancelot's horse as Goliath had followed them and was now drinking from the stream.

With Percival’s help, they managed to get the large, heavy cloak off of the monk. Squirrel was slightly shocked at the state of the shirt underneath, it was torn nearly to shreds and completely soaked in blood. 

“Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?” Squirrel asked, his hands hovering nervously over the man’s torso. The Green Knight had seen to it that everyone in the camp knew how to clean and bandage a wound, but that was about all that Percival knew how to do. He had a feeling this was well beyond his skill.

“I thought it would be fine until we reached the Fey camp,” Lancelot admitted, leaning his head back against the tree and closing his eyes.

“There’s nothing remotely fine about this,” Percival grumbled. Lancelot’s lip twitched, but he gave no other sign of hearing the boy. Squirrel was about to tell him to take off his shirt when suddenly the man’s blues eyes shot open and he sat fully up with a hiss of pain. Squirrel opened his mouth to question him, but Lancelot’s hand covered his mouth. With his other hand, he put a finger to his lips and then pointed to the road.

“Someone’s coming,” Lancelot whispered, pulling his hand away from Squirrel’s mouth. Percival closed his eyes again to listen. Now that he was paying attention and blocking out the other noises, he could hear the distinct sound of horse hooves on the path they’d just come from. “Single rider...I can’t...I can’t smell him yet,” Lancelot spoke the words that they were painful for him. Squirrel didn’t know anything about the monk’s past, but he was pretty sure that if a Fey was working for the people who killed off Fey, that Fey would have to hate who he was.

“We’re hidden from the road though, right? He can’t see us,” Squirrel asked nervously.

“Right,” Lancelot said, but he didn’t sound too sure of himself. “Wait...no, it can’t be.”

“What? Do you know who it is?” Percival pressed. He could tell that Lancelot was fading fast, struggling to hold on to consciousness. Percival hated to push him too hard, but if the person coming down the road was Fey, Squirrel might be able to persuade them to help. 

“I thought...but maybe…” Lancelot’s voice faded as his eyes slipped closed.

“Lancelot, who is it?” Squirrel asked in a hushed whisper, putting both of his hands on either side of the man’s head and shaking him lightly. Lancelot’s eyes opened just enough for Squirrel to see the blue color.

“A friend...go,” The monk said. “Go!” He said louder when Squirrel didn’t move. “Percival, he will help, now go,” Lancelot said with the last of his remaining energy. He went limp and only Squirrel’s grip on his face stopped his head from banging against the tree. Squirrel gently laid him back and then stood up, hesitating for a moment longer.

He didn’t think that Lancelot was lying, but he also didn’t like the thought of leaving him to walk into an unknown situation. What if it took too long to convince the person to help or what if the person took one look at Lancelot and put his sword through him?

The sound of hooves was much louder now and Squirrel knew he didn’t have any time to waste. He was just going to have to trust that it was really a friend coming down the road. Lancelot’s life depended on it.

Scrambling back to the road, Squirrel hide behind a tree and waited to get a glimpse of the unknown rider. As soon as he did, he let out an excited whoop and ran into the center of the path.

“Green Knight!” Squirrel exclaimed in excitement. The rider in his distinctive green armor stopped his horse and jumped off, running towards the boy.

“Squirrel! I looked for you, I thought surely…” Gawain cuts off and draws the boy into a hug. “How did you escape?”

“Lancelot helped me, but he’s hurt, I tried to get him back to camp on my own, but I couldn’t,” Squirrel said, pulling away from the Green Knight and starting to head back to Lancelot. Gawain caught his arm to stop him.

“Who is Lancelot?”

“I’ll show you, come on, he doesn’t have much time,” Percival pulled out of his grasp and started running towards the stream. Gawain swore lightly behind him and then followed him.

Percival ran over to Lancelot and knelt down at his side, glad to see that the man was still alive. He looked over at the Green Knight who was slowly approaching the pair, squinting down at the unconscious man.

“Who is-” Gawain started to ask, then he stepped forward and got a good look at the monk’s face. There was a metallic ring as Gawain pulled out his sword. “Squirrel, step away from him.”

“No,” Squirrel said, shaking his head firmly.

“Do you know who this is? What he’s done?”

“Yes and yes, but he saved me. He betrayed the Red Paladin and nearly got himself killed doing it, but he saved me. And he’s Fey,” Squirrel protested, moving so that he was standing in between Gawain and Lancelot. The Green Knight looked at him in surprise and after a few tense moments, he lowered his sword.

“I know he is,” Gawain said finally. “And I told him that all Fey are brothers, even the lost ones.” 

“So you’ll help him?”

“Gods help me...but yes, I will. If he truly has betrayed the Red Paladin and wishes to be redeemed for all that he has done, he could be a valuable fighter for the Fey,” Gawain said. He sheathed his sword and went to kneel next to Weeping Monk. Percival knelt at the man’s other side, still wary of the Green Knight. “So, his name is Lancelot, eh?”

“Yes, but I don’t anyone has called him that for a very long time,” Percival answered, watching as Gawain surveyed the unconscious form of Lancelot.

Gawain took out his knife and after a moment’s contemplation, spun it around and handed it to Squirrel. “Cut away his shirt, I don’t want to risk injuring him further by trying to remove it.” Squirrel did as he was asked, wincing in sympathy when he had to pull away the fabric that was stuck to Lancelot’s wounds. The fabric tore open the cuts again and soon Squirrel’s hands were slick with blood. Lancelot didn’t stir once during the process, which only served to alarm Percival more.

Gawain came back with a canteen filled with water and started ripping apart an extra shirt to use as a cloth.

“I don’t suppose either of you managed to bring any supplies along?” Gawain asked.

“Only what happened to already be in Goliath’s saddlebag,” Squirrel said, gesturing to the big black.

“Go see if you can find any medical supplies, I need to start cleaning these wounds. Hopefully, we can stave off infection if we act quickly,” Gawain said. Percival stood, but once again hesitated before leaving Lancelot. The Green Knight sensed his hesitation and turned to face the boy. “I swear to you I will do everything in my power to help him. I would not dishonor our friendship by lying.”

Satisfied with that answer, Squirrel ran over to where Goliath was grazing on some grass. Squirrel looked through Goliath’s bag and found something that looked like it could be what Gawain was asking for.

“I figured a warrior such as this would always keep supplies on hand,” Gawain said when Percival brought it to him. “This is good because a few of these will need to be sewn up. He’s lost a lot of blood and can’t afford to lose too much more.”

Percival looked down at Lancelot. The Green Knight had adjusted him so he was now lying on the ground instead of against the tree. His torso was mostly clean of the dried blood to reveal four large gashes and a whole mess of bruising. Gawain set to work on sewing up the largest one.

To keep his hands busy, Squirrel cleaned the blood off of Lancelot’s face. He knew some of the spattered blood was not the Monk’s, but a great deal of the blood matted in his hair was his own. The left side of his face was pretty torn up from the awful weapon the trinity guard had used.

“What do you know about the Ash Folk?” Squirrel asked to diffuse the silence while they worked. When Gawain remained quiet, Squirrel looked up to see the man looking at him in surprise.

“What?”

“He told you his name and not only that he was Fey, but that he was an Ash Folk?” The Green Knight asked quietly.

“Yes…” Squirrel said, “Well I kinda figured out the Fey part on my own.”

“I’m just surprised that he was so forthcoming,” Gawain admitted and then went back to his ministrations. “I don’t know very much about the Ash Folk, no one around here does,” Gawain admitted.

“He can sense out Fey kind, that’s what the Abbott who stopped us said.”

“That’s why they kept him around, probably,” Gawain mused.

“He told me that Father Carden burned his home and killed his family,” Percival said. Gawain once again gave him a surprised look.

“That must be why he saved you and why he doesn’t kill any of the children. You remind him of himself. They took a young child far away from everything he’s ever known and turned his mind inside out,” Gawain said softly, looking at Lancelot’s face.

“But how could he burn other villages and kill other fey after what had been done to him? How could he be on the side of the very men who killed his family?” Percival asked the question had been burning in his mind since he’d found out about Lancelot’s past.

“Survival,” Lancelot said gruffly and they both turned to look at him in surprise. “At first, it was just about survival. I did whatever they told me to do so that I didn’t end up dead like the rest of my family. Before he died, my father told me that they would all live on inside of me. I thought it was my personal responsibility to stay alive for my family. I was just a boy, I didn’t know anything of death or destruction before the Red Paladin came into my village.” Lancelot looked from Percival to Gawain, regret flashing across his face as he did. “I thought you to be dead.”

“I think I might have been. It’s all a bit muddy, but I think Nimue might have brought me back. I can remember hearing her voice calling my name and then next thing I knew, I was waking up covered in plants, and the Paladin camp was deserted.”

“Nimue! Where did she go?” Squirrel asked excitedly.

“I don’t know, but we’ll find her,” the Green Knight promised, reaching over to squeeze his arm. Lancelot leaned up slightly, looking at the stitches Gawain had put into his side.

“Lie back,” Gawain instructed. “You’re still bleeding and I have more stitches to do.” Lancelot did as he was told, collapsing back onto the earth. Percival helped him drink some water before resuming his work cleaning the man’s face.

“Why didn’t you leave once you were grown?” Squirrel couldn’t help but bring the topic of conversation back. Lancelot winced when the needle went into his skin so Percival wanted to distract him with some conversation. He was also just very curious about Lancelot’s life.

“Wh-what?” Lancelot said softly, his blue eyes finding Percival’s.

“You said at first you stayed with the Red Paladin for survival. But once you were fully grown and knew how to fight, why didn’t you leave? You didn’t have to stay.”

“I didn’t know how to leave, and I guess by that point in my life, I didn’t really think I could leave. The Red Paladin had beat into me my entire life that I was damned for being a Fey and that this was the only way to save my soul, and that by doing this, I was saving the souls of all the other Fey. I realize that probably sounds ridiculous to your ears, but I spent years and years hearing those words. Over and over. Eventually, it was just easier to buy into what they were saying. They broke me,” Lancelot admitted. His voice had gotten so quiet by the end that both Squirrel and Gawain had to lean in to hear.

Percival looked at Gawain, not really sure what to say to Lancelot’s words. He tried to imagine what it would be like, but he couldn’t. He’d seen many horrors in the Paladin’s camp and he’d only been there a short while. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be all alone in that place for years.

“You were still just trying to find a way to survive,” Gawain said. “If you come with us, maybe among the Fey you will finally be able to find a way to live again.”

“That’d be nice,” the monk said with a small smile. Then, his eyes slipped shut, and he passed out again.

“Lancelot!” Percival said, patting the man’s cheek. “He’s really warm.” Squirrel moved his hand to Lancelot’s forehead, as his mother used to, and winced at the unnatural heat he felt there. Gawain followed suit and then rocked back on his heels with a sigh.

“He’s running a fever. It might just be his body going into shock because of his wounds, or there might be an infection. We need to finish and get him into the hands of more skilled healers.”

Gawain went back to sewing up the wounds that were still bleeding. Percival sat back and watched him, holding onto Lancelot’s hand and making sure not to distract the Green Knight with any conversation.

“Okay, I need you to help hold him on his side so I can see what his back looks like.” Gawain gently rolled Lancelot onto his side and Percival put his hands on the man’s arm to hold him. Gawain pulled off the rest of Lancelot’s shirt and gasped in horror.

“What?” Percival said, leaning over to take a look.

“No, don’t-” Gawain started to protest, but it was too late. Squirrel had already caught a glimpse of the scars and fresh wounds crisscrossing the man’s back. Squirrel sat back so he couldn’t see Lancelot’s back anymore, feeling sick to his stomach. The Green Knight didn’t look like he was fairing too much better.

“Did...did the Red Paladin do that to him?” Percival asked quietly.

“Some of it, probably. It’s probably how they broke him when he was younger. But these most recent ones look self-inflicted. Look how they curve around his shoulder,” Gawaine gestured to a scar on Lancelot’s shoulder and mimed the motion of what Lancelot might have done.

“Why? Why would he do that?” Percival asked, looking at Lancelot’s face.

“The Paladin taught him that he needed to be punished for being Fey and taught him that he needed to punish himself in order to save his soul.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Squirrel protested.

“To you, maybe, little one. But we cannot begin to understand what Lancelot went through or what he was convinced to believe. The Paladin struggle to understand our beliefs in the same way that we struggle to understand theirs.”

Percival touched the scar on Lancelot’s shoulder lightly. The more he learned about this man, the more questions he had.

“Okay,” Gawain said with a sigh. “There isn’t much I can do right now for these slightly healed cuts, but I am going to sew up these two new cuts, and then we can be on our way.”

Gawain made quick work of sewing and bandaging Lancelot’s remaining cuts. Then, as gently as possible, Gawain picked up the unconscious man and laid him over his saddle. Squirrel helped to make him as comfortable as possible. He didn’t like that Lancelot was lying on the cuts on the front of his torso, but there was nothing much to be done about that. He laid the monk’s cloak over his bare back, covering the scars and the bandages.

“Can you help me up?” Percival asked, gesturing to Goliath.

“You can ride with me,” The Green Knight said.

“No...I wanna ride with him. I don’t...I don’t want him to be alone,” Squirrel admitted. A part of him knew that he should be warier of the man who’d caused so much death and destruction to his kind, but the stronger part of him couldn’t help but feel protective over the man who’d risked everything to save his life and who’d experienced so many horrors, both known and unknown.

“Okay,” Gawain didn’t argue with him. He helped lift Squirrel up so he could sit behind Lancelot. It wasn’t very comfortable and he didn’t have a lot of room on the saddle, but it was worth it to be with Lancelot.

Gawain secured Goliath’s reins to his horse and mounted his steed. Squirrel was quiet for the last leg on their journey. To keep himself busy, he leaned over and braided Lancelot’s hair so that it covered the ugly cross scar on his head. It was one less reminder of the Weeping Monk.

Once that was done, Percival rode with one hand lightly on Lancelot’s back so he could feel that the man was still breathing. Squirrel could feel the heat coming off of his skin from beneath the cloak. Lancelot hadn’t so much as stirred for the past couple hours and Squirrel was growing increasingly worried.

When they finally got near the Fey camp, Squirrel started to worry for an entirely different reason.

“They will treat him, won’t they?” He called up to Gawain. The Green Knight contemplated for a few moments before answering.

“I think with both of our support, it is likely we can convince Nimue and the Fey to accept him and treat him. I don’t know what kind of justice the Fey will demand, because they will demand justice, but hopefully, we can convince them to save his life so he can sit through a trial. Maybe then we can buy him enough time to show everyone how he’s changed.”

“Do you think he can convince them? The Fey hate him,” Squirrel said and knew that they were justified in their hate of him.

“He convinced us, didn’t he? I think if he genuinely has had a change of heart, eventually the Fey will all see it,” Gawain said, and Percival admired his optimism.

“Some Fey are known for their ability to hold grudges,” Squirrel said, thinking about the stories he’d heard growing up about how Fey villages had banished someone for a crime and even their children’s children were not allowed to return to the village.

“And some Fey are known for their capacity to forgive. I cannot say what Lancelot’s fate will be, but we will do our best to ensure that he has a fair shot at a new life, hopefully among his own kind,” Gawain said, his optimism remaining. As soon as their horses were in sight of the Fey camp, however, Squirrel noticed that the Green Knight sat at attention, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as they camp to a stop in front of the Fey guard.

“Green Knight! It’s the Green Knight!” 

“He has returned! And with Squirrel!” The excited shouts of the guards started to draw a small crowd and Percival wished they’d been able to sneak into the camp unnoticed. His hand fisted in Lancelot’s robe as Fey started eyeing the unconscious man curiously.

“It’s good to see you, friend,” Kaze’s voice rose about the crowds as she stepped forward. Gawain quickly dismounted and went over to grasp her on the shoulder.

“Kaze, it’s good to see you too,” He said with a smile. “Is Nimue here?”

“I had hoped she was with you,” Kaze said, her smile turning to a frown. “We have not heard any word of her or Morgana since they bought us time to escape from Gramaire.”

“It’s a long story, but I believe she made it to the Paladin camp, but I was injured and when I awoke she was not there any longer,” Gawain said.

“She’ll find her way back to us,” a new voice said. All their eyes turned to Arthur as he stepped out to join them. He embraced Gawain and sent a smile in Squirrel’s direction. Squirrel had not so much as moved an inch since the Fey had gathered. He knew it would be only a matter of time before they figured out who the monk was, and he knew it would go bad when that happened.

“Who have you brought with you, Green Knight?” Kaze said, eyeing Lancelot’s still form.

“An injured Fey. If you wouldn’t mind, we could take him to the medical tent, and then I can explain the story of how we got here. He’s quite hurt and time is of the essence,” Gawain said smoothly.

“Very well,” Arthur said, gesturing them forward. But before they could move an inch, a Fey warrior appeared at Goliath’s side and grabbed Lancelot’s head roughly, yanking it up so he could see the marks under his eyes. With a cry of disgust, he grabbed the monk and flipped him off of the horse.

“Hey!” Squirrel shouted as Lancelot landed roughly on his back with a groan.

“I thought I recognized that horse and that robe. It’s the Weeping Monk!” The Tusk who had grabbed him shouted as he leveled his sword at Lancelot’s heart. There were angry and panicked shouts from the crowd of Fey. Lancelot, who’d been startled back into consciousness by his fall, looked like he was struggling to stay awake. Squirrel quickly climbed down from Goliath and threw himself so that he was in between Lancelot and the warrior’s sword.

“No! Stop, please.”

“Squirrel, have you lost your mind, get out of the way so I can dispatch of our enemy.” The Tusk lowered his sword slightly, clearly not wanting to accidentally injure Squirrel.

“He’s not, he saved me from the Paladin camp. He was injured keeping me alive. I know he has done horrible things to the Fey, but-”

“You’re right he’s done horrible things,” A sky folk from Squirrel’s own village spoke up. “He burned our home, Squirrel, how can you defend him?”

“He’s changed, he knows what he did was wrong and wants to make up for it,” Squirrel shouted, chancing a look back at Lancelot. The man was watching him warily through hooded eyes, breathing heavily and still lying flat on his back.

“No one can change that much!”

“A Paladin trick, most likely.”

“He killed my family.”

“He’s dangerous.”

“He needs to die!”

The shouts echoed all around the camp as the group pressed closer to the Monk, Percival looked up at Gawain in desperation. The Green Knight stepped forward with his hands outstretched and whistled loudly. The group quickly quieted down, eagerly waiting for what the hero had to say.

“Listen, I know that this man has caused pain to each and every Fey here, but you only know one side of the story. This man here is also Fey, and he was kidnapped by the Red Paladins at a young age and brainwashed into believing that the Fey were the enemy. I know he has committed many horrors and this does not erase that, but please consider that he has experienced horrors of his own that we do not know about. I am not asking for you to forgive him or pass judgment at this time. All I am asking is that we heal him so that he can sit through a proper trial. He will answer for the crimes he’s committed, but if we execute him right now, while he lies injured on the ground, we are no better than the Red Paladin.”

When Gawain’s speech finished another chorus of angry shouts broke out. Some of them seemed to agree with the Green Knight, but the majority of them were still calling for Lancelot’s blood.

The Tusk who’d first torn Lancelot from his horse stepped forward, raising his sword once again. Squirrel quickly unsheathed a small dagger from his waist and batted the sword away, moving to point the knife at the startled man’s stomach.

“If you take another step, I’ll gut you,” He threatened.

“Percival!” Lancelot’s voice echoed around the camp and everyone fell into a startled silence. Squirrel wasn’t sure if it was the fact that the monk was finally speaking or the fact that he’d used Squirrel’s birthname. “Put the knife down, I will not be the cause of any more Fey bloodshed,” Lancelot said quietly, but Percival knew that every Fey could hear his words.

Percival grabbed the Tusk’s discarded sword and backed away. He put the sword on the ground but kept a hold of his dagger as he knelt back at Lancelot’s side. The monk had struggled to prop himself up on his elbows and his blues eyes were pleading as he looked at Percival.

“Please, Percival,” He whispered, ignoring the angry crowd around him for the moment. “Whatever they decide to do with me, promise you will not fight it. I deserve whatever I have coming for me. Promise me,” The last two words were punched out in desperation.

“I promise,” Squirrel said to ease the man’s mind, even though he had no intention of keeping his promise. Lancelot looked closely into his eyes, if he saw the lie in them he decided not to comment on it.

“My name is Lancelot,” The monk said, raising his voice slightly as he addressed the Fey. “I am an Ash Folk. My land was burned by the Red Paladin and I was brought here as a young child and raised on what I now know to be lies. The Green Knight and Squirrel here helped me to see the error of my ways...Gawain said that all Fey are brothers, even the lost ones. And I was lost...I didn’t know how much I was lost until I experienced kindness from someone who should’ve chosen to destroy me,” Lancelot paused to catch his breath. Percival could see that this was taking all of the precious little energy he had, but if he could convince the Fey to treat him, it would save his life.

“I will accept whatever you decide my fate shall be,” Lancelot continued after a moment. “And if you decide I should die for my crimes, then so be it. But, if you allow me to live and atone for the wrong I have done, I can prove to be a valuable ally. I know the inner workings of the Red Paladin and I can be a warrior for the Fey cause. I hope you give me the chance.” Lancelot finished and fell back to the ground with a sigh.

Percival ignored the shouts that had once again broken out. He turned to Lancelot and brushed some of his hair away from his sweaty forehead. Lancelot’s eyes were barely open as he looked at the boy.

“I’ve never heard you talk so much. You picked a good time to start,” Squirrel said with a smile. Lancelot let out a chuckle that turned into a pained gasp.

“You might be rubbing off on me,” He said softly. “But I don’t know if any words are enough to convince them...maybe it’s what I deserve,” Lancelot said, his words barely audible.

“No, don’t you dare give up on me now,” Percival said, shaking his shoulders. Lancelot’s eyes opened more fully and he gave Squirrel a small smile. He reached up and gently stroked the boy’s cheek.

“I’m glad to have known you, Percival,” He said, and then his eyes slipped shut and his hand fell limply to the ground.

“No, no, Gwaine! Arthur! Please,” Squirrel cried desperately. He could practically feel the Monk’s life starting to slip away. He threw himself onto the Monk’s chest and was unable to hold back his sobs.

“Squirrel! Squirrel!” He suddenly became aware of gentle hands on his shoulder and the Green Knight’s voice in his ear. “They’ve agreed to treat him and decide his fate later, you have to let me take him to the healing tent.”

“What?” Squirrel asked, taking a few minutes to process that they’d actually convinced the Fey to heal Lancelot.

“Come here, lad,” Kaze said, gently pulling Squirrel away from Lancelot. Arthur and Gawain picked him up and carried him as carefully as possible away from the crowd. Percival moved to follow them, but Kaze held him back.

“I want to go with Lancelot,” Squirrel said. “It’s not safe,” he looked around at the faces of the Fey, many of whom looked furious at the way the events had turned out.

“Gawain will protect him, but you need to give the healers space to work. Let us get you some food and then you can tell me the story of how you got here. Afterward, you can be by the Weeping Monk’s side.” Percival winced slightly when Kaze called him the Weeping Monk, but he knew he couldn’t expect her to see him as anything other than that at the moment. He could only hope that Lancelot managed to win everyone else over as he had done to Percival and Gawain.

“Okay,” Percival didn’t really have much of a choice as he followed after Kaze.

*****

Lancelot was still asleep when Squirrel finally made it over to the medical tent. Gawain and Arthur looked like they were having an intense conversation in the corner, so Percival went over to sit next to Lancelot’s bed. If he was being honest, Lancelot didn’t look much better than he had when Percival had last seen him. He was pale and sweaty and a touch to his head confirmed he still had a fever. The only difference was that his wounds were now dressed in clean bandages.

“Hey there, kid,” A voice called softly from behind him.

“Pym!” Squirrel exclaimed, jumping up to embrace the familiar woman.

“I’m glad to see that you are safe, although I have to admit I am wary of the new company you are keeping,” Pym said, looking at where the Monk lay sleeping.

“You aren’t the only one,” Squirrel said, glancing at where the Green Knight and Arthur were still arguing.

“You always could see the good in people,” Pym said with a smile. She reached into the bowl of water she’d been carrying when she came in and pulled out a cloth. She squeezed most of the water out of the cloth and put it on Lancelot’s forehead. Her movements were halted like she was frightened he’d wake up at any moment. 

“There’s good to see in him, Pym, I promise,” Squirrel assured her. He’d seen glimpses of a good man in Lancelot’s small smiles or the way he patiently answered all of Squirrel’s questions. “He doesn’t want to be the man he was. He wants to change, I believe that.”

“I’m not so sure how much a person can change their nature, Squirrel,” Pym said with a sad smile.

“I don’t think we can speak to Lancelot’s true nature,” Gawain spoke, as he and Arthur came over to join them. “His true nature was masked by man the Red Paladin forced him to become. I think maybe with time and support, he could become the man he was truly destined to be.”

“Lancelot instead of the Weeping Monk,” Squirrel said.

“Those eyes…” Pym whispered, looking over at the sleeping man. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at those marks and not see the Weeping Monk.”

“Give it time,” Gawain said gently.

“No, sorry, I...I’ll be back to change his bandages and give him more medicine in a couple of hours,” Pym said and hurried out of the door before anyone could stop her. Percival couldn’t help but feel disappointed as she left. He sat back down next to Lancelot and moved to take the man’s hand as he did in the forest. He stopped when he noticed the rope around Lancelot’s wrists, securing him to the cot.

“What?” He asked angrily, touching the offensive ropes.

“It’s just a precaution,” Arthur said. “Everyone will feel a bit more comfortable around him if he’s tied down. We can’t risk someone doing something rash out of fear.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Percival asked, too tired to fight over the ropes.

“The healers did all that they could to treat the infection and the fever. You know the power of Fey healing. Lancelot is strong, I believe he will pull through this,” Gawain said. It wasn’t exactly an answer to Squirrel’s question, but the boy let it drop, deciding he didn’t want to know how close Lancelot might be to not being okay. Instead, he turned to Arthur.

“What do you think about all of this?” He asked.

“I feel, as a human, my opinion doesn’t matter much,” Arthur exchanged a look with Gawain, and Percival wondered if that was what they’d been arguing about.

“It matters to me,” Squirrel said. Arthur softened and took a seat on an empty cot next to them.

“I was not a good person when Nimue met me. I doubt she told you this, but I was a sellsword. I was a killer and a thief and all I could worry about was the poor lot life had dealt me. I actually stole the sword of power from Nimue because I wanted to win a tournament with it,” Arthur said with a wry laugh.

“And Nimue let you keep your head?” Gawain asked with a surprised laugh.

“Barely. Look, I know being a sellsword is nothing compared to working with the Red Paladin against the Fey, but my point is that I am not at all the same person that I was before I met all of you. I was a foolish, selfish, naive man. It took meeting Nimue and hearing the Fey’s stories to show me the error of my ways.”

“You’re saying that you changed...so maybe Lancelot can too?” Percival asked.

“That’s exactly what I am saying. I agree with Pym that maybe our true natures can’t change, but I think sometimes it takes someone to show us who we are destined to be.”

“And you, are destined to be a leader,” Gawain said, without missing a beat.

“I have no right, nor a desire to lead the Fey. I am just a simple man,” Arthur said, sounding tired. Percival was sure that this was the source of their hushed argument from before.

“The Fey people like you, they trust you, they listen to you. They followed you on the beach and they will follow you here,” Gawain said.

“What about Nimue?” Squirrel asked in alarm, wondering why Gawain was trying to get Arthur to lead them when they already had a Queen.

“We will search for her near and far and for as long as it takes,” Gawain quickly assured him. “But the Fey cannot be left without a strong leader until Nimue has returned.”

“What about you, Green Knight? You are respected and trusted among the Fey,” Arthur fired back at Gawain.

“I have no skill for leadership. I took charge to ensure our people survived, but that was all I was able to accomplish. Their survival. We need a leader who will help them thrive. We need a leader who can start to bridge the gap between the human and Fey races.”

“We need someone who can convince the Fey that people can change,” Squirrel said softly, looking at Lancelot.

“Not you too,” Arthur said with a groan.

“King Arthur...has a nice ring to it, you have to admit,” Percival said, unable to help teasing the man.

“Ugh, never ever,” Arthur groaned again.

“Not even if you end up marrying a certain Fey Queen?” Gawain asked with a mischievous.

“Well, maybe then,” Arthur said with a laugh. Percival laughed as well and then looked down at Lancelot when his hand moved. Squirrel was surprised to see that the man’s eyes were open and he was watching them all with a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Lancelot!” Percival yelled, scaring them all, including the monk. The boy leaned forward to embrace Lancelot, avoiding his injuries carefully. When he pulled back, Lancelot was watching him with a surprised look.

“I’m not really sure the last time someone hugged me,” Lancelot admitted sheepishly with the honesty that continued to surprise all who talked with him. Percival leaned forward again and gave him another gentle hug.

“When you are better I will show you how good a hugger I really am,” Squirrel promised. When the boy pulled back this time, there was a slight dampness to the monk’s eyes. He didn’t like the idea of the Weeping Monk actually weeping, so he quickly changed the subject, hoping to distract the man from whatever was making him sad. “Are you feeling any better? The Fey have good healers.”

“I am actually,” Lancelot nodded, running his hand lightly over the new bandages.

“I’ll get you something to eat, you need substance to get your strength back,” Arthur said and Lancelot looked up at him in surprise.

“You’re…”

“Arthur,” The man said, formally introducing himself.

“The last time I saw you, Arthur, I was trying to kill you,” Lancelot said bluntly and Squirrel couldn’t help but flinch.

“The last time I saw you, I was trying to do the same,” Arthur said with a shrug.

“Oh, is that what you were doing?” Lancelot said with a ghost of a smile. Percival realized in delight that he was joking around with Arthur. Just like he and Gawain had been doing earlier.

“What is it, tease Arthur day?” The man asked with a smile, but then he grew serious and took a step closer to Lancelot. “We found ourselves on different sides of the fight, that is true. You, a Fey, working with the humans. And me, a human, working with the Fey. One might say we are two sides of the same coin. I am glad to hear that we might be on the same side now. I will do everything in my power to help convince the Fey to give you a chance to prove that your loyalties have realigned,” Arthur said. Lancelot looked shocked once more and he nodded at Arthur’s words.

“Thank you. You are a skilled fighter. I hope to one day be able to fight alongside you instead of against you.”

“Ah, so I’m a skilled fighter, am I now? Can I get that in writing?” Arthur said and Lancelot flushed slightly when the teasing was directed back towards him.

“Alright ‘skilled fighter’, how about you go and get that food before your head’s too big for the tent?” Gawain asked. Arthur rolled his eyes but left to get the food nonetheless. He held the tent flap open for Pym, who was just coming in to check on Lancelot.

“Oh,” She said, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw he was awake. Squirrel went over to her and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“I’ll give you a bit of privacy,” Gawain said, patting Pym on the shoulder as he walked past. “I want to check in with Kaze. There’s a guard stationed outside of the door who is loyal to me. She has instructions to only allow me and Arthur into this tent.”

“Oh...okay,” Pym said a bit breathlessly.

“He said he’s feeling a bit better, Pym,” Squirrel said as he led her over to Lancelot when Gawain had left.

“Are you who I have to thank for this fine work?” Lancelot said softly, gesturing at his bandages. Percival could tell that Lancelot saw that Pym was nervous around him and was trying to make her more comfortable.

“Yes, w-well me and a couple of others who are more skilled at poultices and herbs than I am,” Pym said, looking everywhere in the tent except for Lancelot.

“Thank you, you saved my life,” Lancelot said as if he were talking to a frightened animal. Pym set the box of medical supplies she carrying down on the table with a thud. Lancelot flinched slightly and Squirrel knew that didn’t escape Pym’s notice.

“I did it so you could live long enough to pay for your crimes,” Pym ground out.

“Pym’s a sky folk. She lived in my village, I’ve known her my whole life,” Squirrel said, watching as Lancelot put the pieces together.

“The village I helped to burn,” He said in a whisper. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you want to see me burn as well.”

“No,” Pym said, turning to look at him finally. “No, that wouldn’t help anyone, especially not those of us who have to live with what you’ve done.”

“So, how can I help them?” Lancelot asked genuinely. Pym looked a little surprised at his sincerity, but it did little to calm her anger.

“By repaying your debts for the lives lost. By helping us with the fight against those who seek to destroy us. By protecting the survivors. Are you really here to do that?” Pym asked, her voice still steely.

“I am,” The monk said simply. Both Pym and Squirrel waited a beat for him to say more, but he didn’t.

“That remains to be seen,” Pym said finally, but her anger seemed to have faded a bit. She set to work changing Lancelot’s bandages. Squirrel noticed she didn’t seem to be nearly as skittish as before.

“Pym learned how to heal while on a raider’s ship,” Percival said, slightly wistful at the coolness of the story.

“Did she now?” Lancelot said, raising an eyebrow.

“I learned some from my mother, all Fey have some skill at healing, but I have gotten most of my experience from treating raiders, yes. It’s where I found myself after my home was destroyed,” Pym said and an awkward silence filled the tent.

“Pym?” Lancelot said after a few moments. “I know it probably doesn’t mean much to you, but I am sorry. I am sorry for my role in destroying your village and killing your friends. I am sorry for my role in all of the destruction. I intend to spend whatever time I have left trying to make up for it.”

“That does mean something,” Pym said after a moment. “It doesn’t change anything and it doesn’t make up for what you did, but it does mean something that you are sorry.”

Lancelot gave her a small smile and let his head drop back onto the pillow, looking tired.

“After I finish here and Arthur comes back with your meal, you should get some sleep. You still have a lot of healing to do,” Pym said, noticing his exhaustion as well. Lancelot nodded and then looked over at Squirrel.

“You should go get some rest, Percival,” He said. Squirrel realized in surprise that the use of his birth name did not annoy him when it was spoken by Lancelot. He caught Pym's eyes and she raised a questioning eyebrow. She of all people knew how much he loathed that name. He'd forbidden anyone in the village from speaking it. “It’s been a long few days for you,” Lancelot continued, not noticing the look Pym was giving the pair.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Squirrel said, shaking his head. He glanced towards the doorway of the tent, outside there were still unhappy shouts rising up occasionally.

“I’ll be okay,” Lancelot said, he tried to reach out to him, but he was stopped the rope encircling his wrist. Lancelot looked down at it with a frown. Percival moved closer to him and put both of his hands on the man’s wrist, over the rope.

“You are injured and sick and tied to a bed. You need someone to keep watch,” Squirrel said stubbornly.

“Why not let Gawain or Arthur do it? You trust them don’t you?”

“I do...I just...I don’t know if I trust them with your life just yet,” Percival admitted. He was mostly just having a hard time giving up control to anyone else. 

“Okay,” Lancelot glanced at Pym who’d finished her ministrations and was watching them both curiously. “I’ll allow you to stay, but only if you come here,” Lancelot said, scootching over slightly and patting the bed.

“What?”

“I have a fever and you are warm,” Lancelot said with a shrug. “Besides, I’m growing accustomed to your hugs.”

Not needing to be asked again, Percival climbed into the bed next to Lancelot and gently snuggled against him. The Monk was still burning up and Squirrel could feel him shivering slightly. He buried his head against the man’s side with a contented sigh.

Percival heard a chuckle, but it sounded like it was very far away. Next thing he knew, his eyes had fallen shut and sleep overtook him.

*****

Pym exited the tent just as Gawain reached the entrance. She looked considerably less spooked than she had when she’d first came in and even had a hint of a smile on her lips.

“How is he?”

“Arthur just brought in his food, make sure he eats some of it. He’s not completely out of the woods yet. He still has a fever and he’s still quite weak. But I think he’ll make a full recovery,” Pym said.

“You don’t sound as disappointed by that fact as I might’ve thought,” Gawain noted.

“He’s...a complex person. I told him the best way for him to repay his debt to the Fey is to protect those living, I can only hope his intentions are pure,” Pym said. Gawain couldn’t help but smile. It seemed as if Lancelot was starting to win over Pym.

“I believe they are.”

“Time will tell,” Pym said, trying to act indifferent. “Make sure he sleeps after eating. I’ll be back in the morning to check in on him.”

“Thank you, Pym,” Gawain said, giving her arm a light squeeze when they parted. As soon as Gawain entered the tent, he realized what may have started to change Pym’s opinion of the Monk.

Lancelot was half sitting up on his cot, propped up just enough by pillows for him to be able to eat. Next to him lay a sound asleep Squirrel, snoring lightly against Lancelot’s side. Arthur had freed Lancelot’s hands so he could eat, and Gawain was not worried about the man trying to get away. He knew enough about Lancelot to know that he would not do anything to disturb the sleeping boy.

“Pym said that Lancelot tricked Squirrel into sleeping,” Arthur said with a grin. Lancelot’s eyes flicked over to Arthur in surprise before he recovered and looked back at Gawain.

“It wasn’t a trick…” Lancelot said slowly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. He still looked pale and feverish, but he was strong enough to eat on his own so Gawain considered that a win. “He just insisted on keeping watch over me himself, so I said he could do it if he lent me his body heat, which naturally involved him lying next to me.”

“Naturally,” Gawain agreed.

“He’s not a very good lookout however because he fell asleep the second he lay down,” Lancelot said with a smile. It was the first, full, genuine smile Gawain had seen from the man and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“And there was no way for you to have known that he would fall asleep so quickly,” Gawain said, his tone slightly sarcastic.

“No way at all, see? No trick.”

“Squirrel will see it as a trick,” Arthur noted.

“He’ll get over it,” Lancelot said as he put the half-finished plate of food on the table.

“Lancelot, you should eat more,” Gawain encouraged. Lancelot directed the same surprised expression at Gawain that he’d sent to Arthur earlier. Gawain realized suddenly that Lancelot was surprised to hear them saying his name. Squirrel had indicated that he hadn’t been called that since the Red Paladin took him from his home. “Pym told me to make sure you eat,” Gawaine said, refocusing on the topic at hand.

“Can’t,” said Lancelot with a shake of his head. He tried to readjust his body so he was lying flatter but struggled to do it on his own. Gawain stepped forward and took a few of the pillows away and helped ease Lancelot back. Lancelot’s skin was still warm under his touch, but it had dulled from the alarming heat he’d felt in the forest.

Lancelot wrapped one arm around Squirrel and brought him closer, then he looked up at Gawain.

“Thank you,” He said. His voice was so sincere and earnest that Gawain knew he was thanking him for more than just the assist lying down.

“You’ll be okay now,” Gawain said, reaching down to squeeze Lancelot’s arm in the same way he’d done with Pym earlier.

"With the help of you and Percival and the others...I think maybe I will be,” Lancelot said, and then he fell asleep with a faint smile on his face.

“Do we need to worry about re-securing him?” Arthur asked, gesturing at the ropes.

“No, there is no way he would risk disturbing the boy’s sleep,” Gawain said. “But just to be safe, I think I’ll sleep on the extra cot.” Gawain did not particularly feel like letting Lancelot or Squirrel out of his sight at the moment.

“Is that for the camp's protection or for his?” Arthur asked.

“Both, I guess,” Gawain admitted.

“Then let us get some sleep. We have a lot of people to convince tomorrow,” Arthur said, looking at Lancelot. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Gawain said. When Arthur had left Gawain took one more look at the sleeping pair before settling into his bed. “The Weeping Monk,” He whispered to himself. “Fate always does have its own plans for us all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! I hope Lancelot winning the people over slowly was convincing enough. It's really hard to write people forgiving what he's done to them in a believable way.
> 
> I'm thinking of adding another chapter where Lancelot encounters some trouble while he's trying to acclimate to life among the Fey. If this is something you're interested in, leave a comment!!!


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